Beneath the Scars

I stood back from the lazy waves that rolled up onto the beach, staring out over the long expanse of water. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Karen coming toward me. She slipped her arm around my waist, standing in silence beside me.

Finally she spoke. “Did you sleep?”

“No.”

“Have you been thinking or wallowing?”

I chuckled a little at her directness. “Some of both.”

“I wish you were angry.”

“I can’t be. I’m too numb.” I shrugged. “I’m not sure I can ever be angry with him. The urge to believe the worst is so deeply engrained in his psyche, I’m not sure it’ll ever change. I think maybe it was going to happen one way or another.” I glanced at her, the sadness sinking back in. “Time was against us.”

“I checked the net—there are a few stories and some pictures, but it isn’t huge. It’s been twelve years and they didn’t get very much information. Chris says there were only a few small articles in the paper.”

“Good. I hope it dies down quick for Zachary’s sake.” I sighed. “Not that it will help me, or my image in any way. Jared won that round.”

“What are you going to do about him?”

“Nothing. What can I do? Spar with him through the media? It’s done; he won—he won it all.”

“Megan—”

“Don’t,” I pleaded. “I need a little time, Karen. Give me that, please. Let me work it through in my head and my heart.” My voice shook a little. “I’m overwhelmed right now.”

She wrapped her other arm around me. “I’m staying here. I’m not leaving you alone.”

I rested my head on her shoulder, grateful for her and her friendship. “Thank you.”* * *The next day we were out on the beach for another walk. I walked a lot, trying to sort things out in my head. Karen was often beside me, allowing me to talk when I wanted and remain silent at other times. Dixie let out a little bark, running toward Zachary’s steps. My body started to shake with anticipation, even as my head snapped to the side, my eyes glued to the stairs and the figure that appeared. A rush of disappointed air escaped when I realized it was Mrs. Cooper gingerly making her way down the steps. Karen squeezed my arm in comfort and we walked toward her together. She smiled—her eyes sad and somewhat nervous—as she greeted us. Frowning, she cupped my face with her hand. “Child, you look so tired.”

I smiled and shrugged. “I’m fine, Mrs. Cooper, really, I am.”

She nodded, although she didn’t look convinced.

“Has the town returned to normal?” Karen inquired.

“I think the last of them left yesterday. They sniffed around, asking questions and taking their stupid photographs,” Mrs. Cooper huffed. “Nobody would talk to them, though.” She smiled grimly at us. “It isn’t like many people even knew him well enough to comment on his life now, never mind what happened years ago.”

“Did you know?” Karen asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. “Did you know who he was before he came to live here?”

“I knew who he was when he first came here. He would come to the store at the strangest times—early in the morning or late at night so he wouldn’t be seen. He was always polite, but distant, and we gave him his privacy. He seemed to need it. After his, ah, accident, he came back and it broke my heart to see the change in him—not only physically. He was broken—bitter. He didn’t leave his house much.”

She paused, lost in memories. “We had become a little closer. Mr. C and I looked after his house when he wasn’t around. Then when he came to live here on a permanent basis, I brought him groceries for the first little while. He hid himself at first, but when I offered to let him send me his lists and come through the back to pick up his groceries, he agreed.” She sighed as she looked over my shoulder at the water. “I thought maybe, with some encouragement, he would start rejoining the world, but he never really did.” She focused her gaze on me. “Until you came into his life, Megan. I thought he had finally turned a corner.”

My chest tightened further. I thought so, too.

“I didn’t do this to him,” I pleaded, my voice full of honesty. “I would never hurt him this way.”

“I know,” she assured me. “I don’t know what all happened with that other man, but I know he was the one responsible.”

“He was!”

“The lesson of not judging a book by its cover most certainly applies here, doesn’t it? He’s such a nice looking man, only to be such a terrible person. I’m sorry I even let him in my store. He seemed to know both of you so well, the way he spoke.”